


Prompts I Find

by ChocolateDoomBunny



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe- Faries, Coma, Fanfiction, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateDoomBunny/pseuds/ChocolateDoomBunny
Summary: A collection of prompts I find that are inspiring enough for me to write about.





	1. Wednesday

Prompt: 'You are a serial killer driving down the road looking for your next victim.

You pick up a hitchhiker, but little do you know they are also a serial killerlooking for their next victim.'

~~~

Wednesday's were the worst days to kill someone. Even newbees knew that. Nobody goes out on Wednesday, no students, no drop outs, even the homeless found more discreet hiding spaces to crawl up in.

Unfortunately, Jack was running out of options. He needed his fix, and it turned out owning a cabin in the woods, waiting for poor, unsuspecting morons to happen upon wasn't good enough anymore.

Kids were no longer adventurous.

Jack's basement was going to waste, and he hasn't spent thousands on that industrial freezer just for it to sit there and hum.

So, here he was, in the middle of the night driving on some country road in the middle of arse knows where, Ireland, begging for some unsuspecting lout to just materialise out of the God damn air.

Well, it must have been his lucky day. Unsuspecting lout dead ahead.

'Well, slap me arse an' call me Suzy, God must really hate this guy.'

~~~

Mark was getting desperate, desperate enough to go out on a Wednesday, of all days, to find some poor person to torture, chop up, and throw in the nearest river.

LA had been a bust, even though it had been filled with fresh meat, many of the citizens knew not to go out at night. Even the candy-in-my-van trick was useless. Kids were far to smart these days.

So, he'd moved, packed up and gone to Ireland, spending the last of his pay check for a one way ticket to what he had hoped were new waters.

No such luck.

Mark's hand tightened on his backpack strap. He couldn't even drive in this stupid country, but at least it gave him a chance to fool some fool into driving themselves to their deaths.

 _Wow_ that was dark.

...

The sound of crunching gravel made its way to Mark's ears, and he spun around.

Huh, here comes that fool now.

Quickly, Mark flashed his crudely made cardboard sign towards the bright head lamps, jumping slightly at the spray of stones that pelted him as the driver pressed on the break, droping from fifty to zero in a flash.

'God must really hate this guy.'

~~~

It happened almost as soon as Mark had shut the door behind him.

"Whoa now!"

"Hold on!"

They stared at each other, Jack with his trusty scalpel and blunted knife, Mark with his machete held tightly in his right hand, struck dumb by the insane probability of it all.

God was probably laughing his arse off right about now.

They slowly lowered their weapons in sync, their eyes never leaving the other. 

Who would have thought this possible, two killers out on the hunt, only to find each other instead.

Silence filled the car, and then...

"Wednesday, man?"

Jack scowled, "Hey, dude, your doing the same thing!"

"Yeah, well I'm foreign, so I think I get a pass on that!"

...

"So, wanna hit up the local town? I know this park where the teens smoke, and two blades are always better than one!"

"... Sure."

And they lived murderly ever after.

The end.


	2. Star Scanner

Prompt: 'You use your mobile phone to take a picture of the starry night sky.

It scans as a qr code.'

~~~ 

It was one in the morning, and Mark just couldn't sleep.

Everyone has those nights, where it feels your brain just won't turn off, the stress of it building up until it finally consumes you in its tidal wave of restlessness. The heat never helps either, making covers unbearable.

It made Mark feel like crying.

He tossed and turned, eyes squeezed shut, but to no avail. It was way too hot to sleep, and the hum of the air conditioning unit in the background was only adding a soundtrack to his pitiful attempts.

'There's no point in staying in bed,' he thought, pushing the sweaty covers off himself. 'I might as well get some videos out of the way, Worlds Quietest Letsplay nuber three coming right up!'

He grabbed a decent enough shirt from his chairdrobe and shuffled out into the hall way, pulling his boxers out from between his butt cheaks as he slipped the shirt over his head.

The recording only lasted an hour, but Mark just couldn't be bothered to edit it. To tired to edit, but too awake to sleep.

Best find something else to pass the time.

~~~

It was cooler outside, but only slightly.

The night sky was full of stars, an unusually clear night allowing Mark to see each and every one of them.

He lifted his phone, and took a picture.

His phone beeped at him.

He glanced blearily at the screen.

Scanning...

Huh, a video? Why the he'll was there a QR code in the fucking sky?

"Top a' tha' mornin' to ya laddie!" The strange, green haired beeing that had just popped up on his phone screen shouted. "If ya watchin' this, then congrats! You've just been chosen to play host to little old me!"

Mark frowned, watching as the strangely Star Trek esque panels behind the guy sparked and smoked, and the footage shook. The man on screen grimaced.

"Watch out dude, cos I'm coming in hot!"

The footage cut out.

_Crash!_

A fucking space ship had just crash landed in his back garden.

Mark was definitely not getting any sleep tonight.


	3. Jackaboy-Man

Prompt: 'You work in an office with a superhero who thinks he's hiding his identity. Everyone knows and covers for him, even when he regularly let's it slip by accident.'

~~~

"Mark, Sean's left his suit in the closet again!"

"And what does that have to do with me?"

"He's your partner. Of course the movement of his clothes has something to do with you! Now go get them before Mr Tube gets back!"

I scowled, muttering under my breath as I pushed away from my desk.

Sean really needed to learn how to be more discreet.

Oh, hi, by the way. I'm Mark, and I'll be your narrator for today. I work in an office block, finance believe it or not, and have done for around three years now. 

It's where I met the love of my life. Sean McLaughlin, short, spunky and super cute. I'd really love to get into the details of how we met and everything, but life really is to short and I don't want to waste your time.

Fortunately, we hit it off almost immediately.

Unfortunately for me, that also means I have to cover for him when he pulls stunts like this.

I'm just gonna come out with it.

Sean is a superhero.

I know, right? A little green haired Irish man, saving LA one day at a time.

Now, I know what your thinking. Yes, he really is that good in bed, super flexible. No, he can't fly, unfortunately. That would have been cool.

Yes, the entire office knows about it, except for Mr Tube.

Which is why I have to move his God damn shirt and trousers from one of the staff closets at least twice a week, because if Mr Tube knew, we'd all be fired.

He's funny like that.

Anyway, Sean thinks he's real sneaky about the whole thing. He's not. Really not.

He puts his spandex suit on under his clothes every morning when he thinks I'm asleep. It'd be hot, except it's the most horrible shade of green ever. Underwear on the outside is never a good look, either.

Jackaboy-Man is a stupid name, too.

Anyway, if I don't do this, the whole floor will be sacked. Why? Because Mr Tube is actually the villain of this tale. Well, Sean's tale, not this one. This one's just so I can complain.

I folded Sean's clothes as I walked back to our shared desk, placing the bundle on his side. Even though he was trying to keep his double life a secret, he still walked into the office in the full superhero garb.

He thinks he's invisible.

He's not, but we pretend he is so it doesn't shatter the illusion.

Thud.

Oh look, there he is, smeared against the the window. 

Remember Mark, act shocked.

I don't understand how he can think that a tiny mask over his eyes can hide his identity.

Oh well.


	4. Dark Decent

Prompt: None! Well, actually the very last bit is from a tumblr post, but the rest is me!

~~~

The house stood on a small hill, just outside of the city. It had once been a farm house, Jack had read somewhere, but when the owner had passed the land had been sold by his children. There were a few other large houses that Jack could see scattered about, but they were far enough away that he didn't think he would get a welcome committee.

America was a large country, and with its increased size came bigger everything. Cars, cities, and even houses came in such a larger scale than what he had been used to in Ireland that it had first seemed intimidating when he hopped of the plane in LAX, with a dream, a large sweatshirt and way too much luggage. 

The house had come as a steal, way under Jack's budget, which had at first made him a little wary. It was all for naught, however, as the tour had shown the house to be in very good condition, with an updated bathroom and kitchen, just without any furniture to speak of.

It was kind of spooky, living in the middle of nowhere, but Jack thought he could handle it.

Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~

"Woooo~" 

Jack jerked awake in an instant, heart pounding as his head whipped around the small bedroom he'd set up in for the night.

The wind blew howled again, and Jack relaxed back against the dusty old pillows he had found in and old cupboard in one of the other unused rooms. It was just the wind.

Jack was just drifting off again, when a large crash sounded downstairs, jerking him back into an awake state.

'The wind must have blown something over,' Jack thought to himself, reaching under the makeshift bed for his torch. 'I better go check nothing's broken. Can't remember leaving any windows open though...'

Floorboards squeaked under his foot steps as he made his way down the hall to the stairs, sending a cold shiver down the Irish man's back. The stairs creeked with every step he took, hardly helping his already creeped out vibe.

As he reached the last step, a piercing cold flushed through his body, leaving him gasping for breath, the faint sound of laughter wafting along with it.

Shock rushed through Jack, causing him to freeze on the last step. He stood there for a few moments, trying to calm his rapid heart beat. What was that? The wind again?

Jack shook himself off, filling himself with determination. Again, it was probably just the wind. Time to find that window!

...

None of the windows were open.

That means whatever was knocking stuff over, whatever that chill was... 

It was in his house.

~~~

"And.... Mark! Your on the big house tonight."

"Ugh, let me guess. Suburban white family, the dad's all' this move is good for us' an I right?" 

"No, actually. Single guy by the looks of things."

"Listen, I don't really care. I'm just gonna slam doors really fucking loudly and shout boo, ok?"


	5. FanFiction And Other Such Absurdities

Prompt: Just ya general 'oh no fanfic turned me gay' thing, except nothing kinda gay happens..? Idea borrowed (stolen) from Azlinne.

~~~

'...Jack stared longingly into Mark's lustful eyes, the Irish youtuber almost swooning at the dark look on his best friend's face. Ever so slowly, he reached out, searching for his-'

"Oh god no!"

Jack closed the tab so forcefully he heard his mouse groan under the sudden pressure.

Why the fuck had Felix sent him this pile of unscripted, poorly worded shite?

He shook his head violently, trying futility to remove the image of Mark's 'pulsing member' from his brain. Where was the bleach?

'Hey Jack, read this! You won't regret it ;)'

He should have listened to his conscious when it warned him never to trust anything Felix sent him. Certainly not after the '2 girls 1 cup' incident.

Never, ever again.

And what was this drivel anyway? Septiplier fanfiction, written by a twelve year old girl who has probably only seen one of their videos and had then decided to write about them doing some very un-Christian things in the back of a car that neither of them could afford. 

'The fuck, man? Just cos I'm in it doesn't mean I have to see it! It's a load of crap, anyway!'

'Then why don't you write one?'

'Na, I'm not a sadist!'

'Go on, I dare ya to publish it aswell!'

Definitely shouldn't have said that.

~~~

The aweful truth of it was, Jack didn't mind fanfiction, and had even tried his hand at it at one point.

As long as it wasn't about himself, that is.

Writing was never one of Jack's strong points. Sure, he could string a few words together, but it wasn't great. Whenever he tried, he found his words lacking somehow, like they were dull and lifeless.

While YouTube usually curbed his enthusiasm into something he found productive, every now and then that little spark of inspiration would flare. Jack would soon find himself at his computer.

And now, Felix had dared him to write something. And not just any something, fucking septiplier!

Could it get any worse?

~~~

Yes, apparently it could get worse.

'Hi, I really liked your story! To you take prompts?'

He's only published the damn thing an hour ago!

The fic wasn't even that good, just a rewrite of the last PAX he'd been to, with the added spice of a short, awkward to write kissing scene. Felix had been appeased by it, but only just.

It had taken him two days of thinking it over, putting it off more like, before actually creating an account and sitting down to write the stupid thing.

And now, people wanted him to write more? Jack sighed.

'No, sorry,' he quickly typed back. This was hopefully the end of it.

...

Huh, another message.

'lol, nice. Seemed really in char, love it.'

Comments? He was getting comments now? Jack squinted at the screen, trying to work out if it was a trick of the light or something. And what was this warm, fuzzy feeling inside of him?

Jack had to find out more.

~~~

"Hi Jack, is there something I can do for you at... 4 o'clock in the morning?"

"Sorry, it's like 9 here. Anyway... Oh god this is awkward."

"What is it?"

"Ok, so. How big is your dick, it's for, like, research purposes? I'm writing this fanfic and-"

"-The fuck!?"


	6. Abduction Sometimes isn't a Good Idea

Prompt: 'Alien abduct a human but the human is a serial killer and he's less than amused.'

I'd like to think of this one as an alternate ending/ reality of 'Star Scanner' but you don't have to read that one to understand this.

~~~

Another successful nights work, Mark thought confidently to himself as he cleaned his machete of blood.

Murders were always so much fun!

He left the bodies where they were, torn and tangled in a bloody heap on the living room rug. It should keep the cops entertained for a while.

He made his way out of the fancy house, blood crusted arms swinging at his sides.

Nothing could go wrong tonight.

~~~

As soon at the human male had stepped out of his housing facility, Jack imediatly commed down to the teleportation room. 

"Beam him up, Mr Lester."

"Aye, captin!"

"Mr Felix," he called as he disengaged the transmission, turning to his navigator. "I'm going down to the transporter room. You have the con. Mr Cry, you take over for navigator."

"Aye, captain!"

Jack stood, walking around his captains chair to the elevator. Shouting out the floor, Jack was thoroughly suprised when his communicator chirped.

"McLaughlin here, what is it?"

"Captain!" it was Phil, and he sounded worried. "The alien we picked up, we're findin' him very hard to contain sir." There was a crash in the background, followed by muffled earth swears and the sound of Jack's red shirts trying to control him.

"The fuck am I?!"

"I've called for backup sir, but it's gonna be rough."

More shouting, followed by the familiar sound of a phaser being shot.

"We've got it now, sir. Howell stunned him. Shall we put him in one of the holding cells?"

Jack sighed, rubbing at his face with a spread palm. He knew the guy wasn't going to take it well, be Jack never would have thought a human of all things could turn to violence so quickly.

"Yes, thank you, crewman. I'll head that way now. McLaughlin out."

~~~

Mark came too slowly, his mind fuzzy and painful. He groaned, squinting his eyes open, only to be met with what looked like bright florescent lights. He could just about see someone in his peripheral vision, but that to was fuzzy. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Jack. Physically, he's perfectly healthy. There's no reason as to why he would attack so viciously as he did. He doesn't have any marks on him either, and the bloods clearly not his. I think we picked the wrong guy, Jack."

"Well, we can't do anything about that now," a second voice said, his voice even weirder than the slightly garbled one the first had. "Keep me posted. If you find anything out of the ordinary, let me be the first to know."

"Aye, captain."

Footsteps followed, hinting that the man's partner had left, leaving Mark with who he believed to be the boss of the operation. These guys really didn't know what they were in for.

"So," the second strangely accented voice said. "Can I ask why you were attacking my crewmen?"

Mark sat up slightly, glaring through the glass at the other man. Or, at least he thought it was male. Aliens were weired like that. "I think you would have had the same reaction."

The other smiled slightly, his strangely green hair falling into his eyes.

"Yes, well. I'm not the one covered in blood, am I?"

Mark smirked darkly.

"Oh, honey. As soon as I get outta this cage, you will be."


	7. Glass (Part 1)

Prompt: 'While cleaning your attic you find a box of glass balls with names on them. You accidentally drop one and as soon as it shatters, a person appears.'

This is gonna be a two parter, I just thought I'd upload them seperatly to add suspense.

~~~

"Jack, honey, could you go and clean the attic? We've got guests coming over, and I don't want Mrs O'Donald spreading about the town that our house is less than pristine."

"But Ma, when is she gonna go in the loft? It's a book club, it's not like she's gonna sneak off upstairs to look through our unmentionables. Its not an episode of 'Come Dine With Me', you know."

"Sean."

"Fine, Ma."

~~~

Lofts were always the same, warm, dank and musty. The possibility of running into some sort of spider or big was tripled, and it really have you a sense of how much crap your family had. Why did they need ten radios again?

Jack started to organise first, chucking broken things down the hole onto the landing for him to clear up later, and placing family heirlooms and the like into neat stacks.

He was rumaging through his father's old record collection when Jack found them.

"Hmm, what are these?" Jack asked himself, picking up an old carboard box and placing it in the light of the lone bulb. The box clanked slightly as the glass objects inside were upset by the movement. Six balls of glass, each about the size of a tennis ball, lay inside.

Jack blew at the thick layer of dust that had coated each of the baubles, then picked one up for a closer look. It was made of clear glass, though time and dust had made it blurry and sticky. Grabbing his so far unused duster, Jack rubbed at the glass orb until it was clean enough to see through again.

Thoroughly polished, Jack held the ball up to the light. Illuminated in the glow, it was easy to make out the thin, old looking slip of paper that was suspended inside.

'Felix' it read.

Setting it down carefully back in the box, Jack reached for the next ball, and the next, until all six were clean. Each had a similar slip of paper inside, however they seemed to vary in age, and all had different names.

Felix, Ken, Cry, Bob, Wade and Mark.

Maybe they were Christmas presents? Jack wondered to himself. The previous owners of the house had up and left quite suddenly, maybe they had forgotten to pack these. 

That didn't explain the dust, though. And while most of the names were quite common, he couldn't see any upstanding Irish woman naming their child Cry, or Felix.

Jack picked up Mark again, squinting at the glass object.

"Jack! Are you done yet?" 

At his mother's loud screech, Jack dropped the ball.

It shattered on the wooden floor.

"Jack? Did you drop one of my vases? They're priceless you know!"

Jack panicked, scraping the broken glass into a pile, the jagged edges breaking his skin. 

A drop of blood fell onto the paper.

"No Ma," Jack called back, distressed. What if these were His mum's? She'd kill him! "I think I just knocked over the Christmas decorations again!"

The paper began to glow.

"Hmm, well hurry up, lunch is ready, and I don't want you hanging about when the guests come."

"Ok, I'll be quick!" Yeah, she was defiantly going to murder him.

No sooner had his mother left, the glowing paper gave a flash of light. The smell of burning paper followed, and Jack covered his eyes.

When he opened them again, instead of the charred floorboards Jack thought he would find, he found a young man, curled up on his side where the glass shards had been.

What the actual fuck?


	8. Glass (Part 2)

Ok, so I lied. Its gonna be three parts because I can't stop.

~~~

The guy seemed to be unconscious, which was just perfect for Jack, shocked and unmoving as he was. 

Had he just... What the... How?

Jack shuffled forward slightly, poking a stubble covered cheek. The man's mouth twitched slightly, but nothing else happened. He was fully out, and Jack took the time to study him. 

Black hair byed red, he was possibly taller than Jack as well, though it was hard to tell from his curled up position. 'He's cute,' Jack thought to himself, staring at the strangers peacefully sleeping face.

The guy actually looked quite normal. That is, until you noticed the clothes. 

The guy was wearing a tunic, for Christ sake. It was mainly black, decorated with silver and cream around the sleaves and collar. It has golden buttons, and a dark grey belt looped around the man's waist, the silver buckle glinting in the low light. His black trousers were neatly pressed, though Jack could see a smattering of dirt at the ends.

He has a sword, too. Who the fuck was this guy?

~~~

Leaving him in the loft wasn't an option. That ment that Jack somehow had to get him down the ladder, without causing harm to himself, the guy, or alert his mother to the sudden visitor.

He was successful, but only just, nearly dropping the man a few times on the way down. The glass had mysteriously disappeared, but Jack didn't have time to worry about it. Instead, Jack lugged him into his bedroom, throwing him up onto the single bed, and ran back downstairs to fetch his lunch.

"Here," Ma said, thrusting the ham sandwich into his hands. "I don't want to see you for the next-" she glanced at her watch, "- two and a bit hours."

Jack nodded, rushing away as soon as his mother had stopped talking. She felt quite shocked by this, but didn't think much of it, stressed as she was from the imminent possibility of visitors as she was.

Jack rushed back upstairs, jumping two steps at a time in his rush. He had to be there when the red headed man woke. The idea he could wake up and wander downstairs by himself terrified Jack. Anything could happen.

He crashed into his room, expecting the man to be gone, almost begging, as if it would make his life any easier. But he was still there, still sprawled out in the awfully uncomfortable position Jack had left him in. The only difference this time was that he was most defiantly awake.

The guy sat up on his elbows, "Oh, god. Hi? I'm Mark."

The accent the guy had was defiantly American, and he didn't sound like he'd just come from Shakespeare land. It didn't explain the fancy get up though.

"Erm, hi. I'm Jack," He stuttered out. Mark smiled ever so slightly, pushing himself up until he was sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as if he'd always been there and Jack just hadn't noticed.

"This must be really weird for you, huh?"

"Just a bit, yeah."

Mark looked down at himself, "And your probably wondering about the clothes as well?"

Jack nodded, setting his plate down on his desk and collapsing into a chair. An explanation would be nice.

"Ok," Mark finally said after a moment of silence. "So-" A look of panic crossed his face, and he jerked forward, staring into Jack's eyes. They were a deep shade of brown.

"So, I came from a glass ball, yeah? Were there any others with me?"

Jack nodded his head, taking a bite of his sandwich, "There were six of them, I think. Including yours."

"That's good..." Mark answered after a pause. He didn't look as worried anymore, at least. "And where are they?"

"Still up in the attic."

"Oh." Mark shook himself slightly, the smile, of somewhat strained, reapearing on his face.

"So, clothes?"

Jack nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich, "And why the hell you came from a glass fucking ball of all places."

"Your taking all this pretty calmly."

"Should've seen me when it first happened."

"Yeah, I bet," Marks smile grew wider, and he scooted down the bed until he was facing Jack, crossing his legs.

"These were the clothes I was wearing when I was first captured-"

"Captured by who?"

Mark gave Jack a dark look, completely ignoring his question. "I was then magically magic'ed into this little piece of paper," he held up his two pointer fingers an inch apart, "but that couldn't hold me for long, you see, so I was sealed away in glass."

"But why-"

"I was _captured_ ," Mark carried on, "because I'm not strictly human."

At Jack's shocked look, Mark carried on, "I'm Fay, Jack."


	9. Glass (End)

I don't really like how this turned out in the end tbh. It seems kinda forced, though I don't think I could have wrote it better. Oh well, on to the next :)  
~~~

A fairy.

Fucking. Fairy 

In Ireland.

Oh, dear Lord.

"Oh my God!" Jack all but shouted, jumping up and scrambling away from the seemingly innocent man on his bed. "Your a fuckin' demon, aren't you? That's what all the myths say, you know. Irish fairies are evil fairies!"

"Jack! Nnonononono!" Mark jumped up as well, waving his arms in the air, as if that would help Jack calm down.

"I'm not a demon!"

"The hell you aren't!"

Banging on the floor below them had The two of them freezing mid shout. They both looked down at the carpeted floor, as from the living room Jack's mother banged her broom handle on the ceiling. 

"Sean, you better be shouting at your laptop! If I find you summoning the devil again, you won't like what happens!"

That shut them up quickly.

Quietly, Mark asked, "Why are you trying to summon demons?"

Jack shrugged, "Hormones."

~~~

"So..." Jack started after a few minutes of silence. "Your a fairy?"

"No," Mark replied, seated once again on Jack's bed. "Fay. Fairies are those pink monstrosities people put on birthday cards for children."

"But, Fay are fairies, aren't they?" Jack asked, puzzled. "And your an actual, real life one, not a drug induced hallucination?"

"No, Jack. I'm not a hallucination."

"Oh, God. I fell out of the loft, didn't I? I'm in a coma or something."

"No, Jack," it seemed like Mark had had enough of his teasing.

"Jeez, ya don't have to be so touchy about it," Jack said, finishing the last of his sandwich in two bites. Mark gave him a dirty look.

"So, seeing as you rubbed the magical lamp, so to say, I can grant you four wishes, but only four." Mark said, crossing his muscled arms over his chest.

"Wishes?" 

"Yeah, wishes. And after that, I go back in my ball. We'll need that as well, is it still in the loft with the others?"

"Actually," Jack started, picking at the crumbs on his plate. "The glass sorta broke-"

"Yeah, it does. It remakes-"

"-And it's kinda gone now."

Mark stared at Jack. "Gone?"

"Gone."

"Completely?"

"Without a trace."

"Huh," Mark said, disbelief colouring his features for a moment. "You've freed me? Like, for realsies? How?"

"I don't know, man," Jack replied, looking up from the desk top to meet Mark's eyes. "I cut my hand, and I think blood may have gotten on the paper, though I'm not sure how-"

At his words, Mark quickly grabbed his hand, yanking him down onto the bed with him. He examined the bloody palm that Jack really should have seen to hours ago, picking at the dried blood. Mark glanced up, looking at Jack through his fringe, before licking a long line up Jack's hand with the flat of his tongue. 

Jack didn't really know what to make of that.

"Hmm," Mark murmured against his skin. "I see..."

Marks hot breath against his flesh was turning Jack's palm sweaty. "What is it?"

Dropping the hand, Mark leaned back slightly, allowing Jack to wipe the saliva on his jeans.

"The great wizard, he's the one that locked is all up, you see, told me that one day, we would be freed by a boy with green hair and strange predecessors." Mark explained, taking both of Jack's hands in his, rubbing at his knuckles. "Leprechauns do exsist, you know. Your decended from them, I could test it in your blood."

Jack was shocked at the news, "So, I'm part Fay?"

"Yep," Mark replied. "Now, let's go free my friends!"

~~~

"Oh, and by the way, Jack? We have to get married now, it's kinda how most fairy tales end. I'm just holding up tradition."

"WHAT?!"


	10. Hey

Prompt: You find out that a reoccurring character from your dreams is a comatose patient in the hospital You are in.

(Pst, I also made a tumblr, if your interested :3 

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chocolatedoombunny

I don't know why, because I'm not sure what I'll use it for, but if you want, you can find me here.)

~~~

Who knew that a trip to America would end up like this. Stuck in hospital with his leg suspended in the air, unable to move to even reach the tiny remote for the tv, and living off whatever was considered food around here.

Jack sighed, psyching himself up for another mad attempt for the remote. Jerry Springer was ok, but two hours of the stuff would drive anyone to the brink of insanity. 

His room's doorknob rattled, and he rushed to straighten himself back out, smoothing the hospital blanket down as a nurse entered the room.

She smiled at him, brushing her short dark hair out of her eyes as she went to pick up his clipboard. Jack found it slightly condescending.

"Good morning, Sean," she called out, glancing at his heart monitor as she scribbled something on the chart. "And how are we doing this morning? Did you sleep well last night?"

Jack nodded, hissing in slight pain as the nurse readjusted his leg. He had slept well, which was surprising in of itself. Jack usually didn't sleep at all at night, as a result of his self diagnosed insomnia, but last night he's gone out like a light as soon as he'd been helped into the lumpy bed. 

His dreams had been full of shapes and colours, with no distinct feel or pattern to them, just a lot of reds and blues and pinks. It had been the best nights sleep he'd had in ages, though with the amount of drugs they'd had him on, Jack wasn't surprised.

"That's good," the nurse replied, and her red smeared lips parted to show even redder teeth. "Hopefully, the break will have healed enough for you to be transported home in about a week, but until then I'm afraid your stuck here."

"Thanks," Jack said, as the woman finally handed him the remote. A week? It wasn't so bad, he supposed. It could have been longer.

The nurse finally left, leaving Jack on his own once more. He flicked the tv off and settled into the pillows. Might as well get a nap, then.

~~~

His dreams started off the same as they had the night before, with colours and shapes and soft sounds. He drifted in it for awhile, floating from one blue blob, to pink, then black. It finally came red's turn, and that's when things changed.

As soon as Jack's not quite real hand touched the colour, instead of giving like a bubble under his hand, it passed through it, giving off a light glow as it did. A weak sucking sensation followed, and Jack, unable to fight it for some reason, was sucked in. 

He landed on hard, grass covered dirt. He pushed himself up, wiping off green specks from his arms. He was in his hospital gown, the blue of it splattered with hints of light red. 

Jack glanced up, staring at the strrangely pink sun that never once hurt his eyes. The red was gone. He was in a grassy field, with hills surrounding it on all sides. Jack decided to walk then, intent on exploring the new place his mind had found.

The further he traveled, the darker the plain got, until the once green grass and pink sky were nothing but grey smudges. The hills around him had turned to jagged mountains.

He saw him, then.

Jack stopped, his head falling to the side in thought, as he spotted a man. He was crouched, his head hanging low between his sholders. Dressed in the same gown as Jack was wearing, it was oddly discoloured, the light grey of it turning the man's already pale completion ashy. He was colourless.

"Hey," Jack called out, and the man's head snapped up, turning towards him in shock. Jack raised his hand to wave, feeling a distinct tug from somewhere, trying to pull him awake.

The last thing he remembered before he woke was the stranger's hesitant wave back.

~~~

While the dream had been strange, Jack once again placed the blame on the drugs the doctors were no doubt pumping into his system. 

He spent the rest of his day clicking through the various channels on the tv, being visited by nurses, and finally meeting his doctor a few minutes before six.

"Good evening, Sean. How have you been today? Nothing hurting?"

"Should it be?" Jack asked in reply, and the doctor smiled, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

"No, it shouldn't," was his answer. "How have you been sleeping? Linda told me you had a nap today, it's not the medication making you sleepy is it?"

Jack shook his head, "No, I just got a bit bored, that's all. Only so much day time tv a person can watch, you know.

"I did have a pretty weired dream, though."

~~~

Jack finally fell asleep around ten, and his dream space was the same as before, green fields and hills. The grey became more apparent the more he walked, but it seemed less dark than before. The man was still there as well. He was stood this time, the gown ending at his knees, his feet dug into the grey earth. Again, he wasn't facing Jack, instead he was staring at the black, inky sky. 

He was the only colour, red hair and grey tan, whereas before, even he had been toneless.

"Hey!" Jack shouted again, waving as the man twisted on the spot, his eyes going wide. He rushed towards Jack, and Jack shut his eyes, bracing himself for impact. It never happened though, and Jack's eyes slid open, and he came face to face with the dreamed man. 

He had brown eyes, red hair, and looked quite surprised. 

A large hand lifted, and knuckles ran over Jack's cheekbone, down to his jaw.

"Are you real?" It was wispered so quietly, Jack almost didn't hear him.

"I think so, though this is a dream, so I could not be."

The hand fell, "Oh, so your another part of this, then?" The stranger waved a hand in the air, at the landscape.

"No," Jack said. "I thought you were part of this."

"I'm not, I think I've been here for awhile. I'm Mark, by the way."

"Sean, but everybody calls me Jack."

"Whys that?"

"I'm not sure..."

Jack woke.

~~~

"Hello Sean!" His mother had finally decided to grace him with her presence, how lovely.

"How are you feeling dear? Look, I brought you some grapes," she sat in the plastic chair next to his bed, pulling out the fruit from her large canvas bag.

"I don't like grapes, mum."

"Oh, you really shouldn't be so picky Sean. More for me, I suppose," she replied, placing one of the grapes in her mouth. She hadn't brought then for him in the first place, Jack knew this.

"So, how are you dear?"

"I'm fine, mum."

"Your clearly not, Sean. A mother can always tell. Is it your leg? I can always fetch that lovely nurse that showed me in here. Oh what was her name, Melinda?"

"Linda, mum."

"Ah, yes. Lovely lass, that one. You should see if she's single you know. Very pretty, that one."

Jack longed for death.

~~~

"Back again?" Mark asked as Jack made his way over.

"This is a weired reoccurring dream," Jack replied to him, glancing around. Less gray could be seen, and Mark looked even better than before, the colour returning to him.

A small smile made its way into Mark's face, "I'll say. Are you in hospital right now?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I think I am too," Mark replied, fingering at the hospital gown he was wearing. "I think I've been there for awhile."

"I haven't seen you," Jack took Mark's hand, for some reason. Just seeing the sad look on Mark's face, Jack wanted to make him feel better some way.

Mark linked their fingers, "I don't think you will have, I don't think I've moved from my room in a long time."

~~~

"Hello again, Sean. Time for your pills," it was Linda again, holding out a tiny cup with two small, white tablets in the bottom. Jack swallowed them dry, and Linda gave him a dark look as she filled out his chart. 

She left, and two hours later his doctor arived. The smile was ever plastered on his face.

"Good news, Sean. You'll be out by Friday. Turns out your legs healing a lot faster than we originally thought."

~~~

"How long do you have?" Mark asked on the fourth night, as they lied in the grass. It was almost green again.

"Another day, I think. Will you be better for then?"

"I don't know. I think I could be, if you visited."

Their hands met again, twinning with each other and the blades of grass. The colour spread further.

"I'll try and find you, then."

Silence for a moment, then...

"Can I kiss you, Jack? I'm not sure I ever have."

"Sure, Mark."

~~~

"Excuse me, nurse Linda?" Jack asked just as the nurse was about to leave. 

"Yes, Sean?"

Jack swallowed, "Is their a man here called Mark? Possibly has been for awhile?"

"You mean Mr Fischbach? Yes, he's a coma patient. But how do you know about him?"

"I... Heard the doctor talking about him," Jack thought quickly. "I heard no-one visits him anymore. I'd like to, before I leave please."

"I think that would be wonderful," Linda replied, smilling as she left.

~~~

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Jack finally whispered, his forehead pressed firmly to Mark's. The fingers around his tightened, and Mark staired at him with large eyes.

"Will you visit?"

"Or course. I asked the nurse, she's going to bring me by tomorrow."

Mark's lips met Jack's.

"I'll see you there, then."

~~~

"Ready to go, Sean?"

Jack nodded, straightening himself as Linda grabbed the handles of his wheelchair.

"Mark's first, please."

"Of course, dear," Linda said. She wheeled him out of the room to the lift, pressing the button for the second floor. 

"Here we are," she finally stopped in front of a room, slowly pushing the door open, the door frame finally framing the man in Jack's dreams.

He rolled over by himself, leaving the nurse in the corridor. He leaned over the peaceful face, rubbing at the mans stubbled jaw with his thumb. Slowly, the man's eyes opened, and they both heard Linda gasp, calling for a doctor as they started at each other. 

"Hey."


	11. Demon Notes

The mirror had sat, alone and dusty in the back of the antiques shop for several years before it was finally bought.

Alice smiled, brushing away stray cake crumbs from the single checkout or the shop as a young man stumbled from the back, lugging the ornate piece of furniture along with him.

"Back again so soon, Sean?" she asked, reaching over to help the lad manover the mirror onto the counter so she could check the price. Sean nodded, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, "Of course, who could resist with a wonderful woman such as yourself manning the till?"

Alice blushed, reaching over to take the offered notes, "Oh Sean, please. I'm old enough to be your grandmother."

"I always did like mature women."

"Stop it, you," she slapped at his arm as she handed over the change. The young man was certainly a charmer, that was sure. Having only just moved into their small village, Sean was very much an outsider, a constant spectacle of town gossip. He had taken it all in his stride, however, and Alice was glad of it. It was about time the town saw new blood.

"You be careful now, hun. You break that and it's seven years bad luck."

"I know, thanks Alice!"

~~~

The darkness had been trapped for as long as it could remember, possibly before time exsisted, and it was bored. You wouldn't think a cloud of smoke could feel any sort of emotion, and the darkness had been surprised by this fact too, after spending so many centuries with nothing. 

But no matter what, it was bored, and so it watched. Watched as strange beings, large ones, small ones, ones unlike the others, furry and low to the ground where the majority were not. It studied them for many years, trapped unknowingly behind glass. It never once thought of escape, which I suppose is strange, however the darkness had become quite comfortable in it's easily to shatter prison.

And then one day, it's scenery changed. It happened quite suddenly, the darkness remembered. One minute it was surrounded by old, dusty books and furniture, the next it was in a brightly lit room, with large windows and grey paint. 

How it knew the names of these foreign things, it didn't know, but what it did know was that right now a strange, green haired smiley thing was looking straight at it.

Interesting.

~~~

The strange thing, which the darkness had come to know as Jack, always seemed to forget things. He was forever writing, sticking brightly coloured pieces of paper onto the front of the glass, usually little messages to remind himself of deadlines or meetings, other times little notes of encouragement. 

It'd only been a few years since his prison, now known to him as a mirror, had been bought by Jack, yet the darkness had become more and more like Jack. He now has a corporal, if slightly stolen, body, almost identical to his unsuspecting roommates, green hair and all.

He, because it was defiantly a he now, had even become stronger, able to leave the mirror for short periods of time, able to drag things back through with him. It was all very exciting.

The writing looked fun, as well, so one night he dragged one of the annoying clucky things from the neighbour's garden, and painted on the glass his own note.

'Don't forget to clean the stairs.'

~~~

To say that Jack was surprised when he saw the bloody message the next morning was an understatement. 

He phoned the church as quickly as possible.

~~~

 

"Oh yes, defiantly a possession," the priest mumbled, running his finger along the frame of the mirror.

 

"Is there anything you can do about it?" Jack asked, staring in horror at the still dripping words. The priest shook his head, and Jack's shoulders fell in defeat.

"A possession like this is old, nothing shy of a nuclear blast would get this demon out. The good news, is that they seem somewhat tame, I'm sure you won't have any trouble with them."

~~~

And so, the darkness kept writing notes, and Jack slowly got used to finding notes scrawled in blood on his mirror. They were actually pretty useful, reminding him of things he hadn't even thought about.

But blood was hard to wash off, and the couple next door were starting to give him odd looks, and Jack had finally had enough.

'Damn it Anti,' he wrote, sticking a whiteboard pen to the top edge of the mirror. 'Just use the pen you don't need to kill a chicken every time I forget something!'

And that was, inevitably, the end to the mysterious chicken cull.


	12. Evil?

Jack sighed staring up at the ceiling from where he was sprawled out on the settee. He scratched at his stomach, the short riding up slightly. 

"I'm getting really tired of pretending I'm not evil." 

From the living room he could almost hear the defeated, somewhat frustrated sigh that his partner let out from the kitchen. He glanced up just in time to catch Mark in his apron as he walked behind the sofa, a smudge of flour still on his cheek. "How any times, Jack. Your not evil by any stretch of the word, and you know it."

"Am too!"

"What about that cat we found yesterday? You wouldn't stop pestering me about it, and then had me drive all the way to a no kill shelter that was nearly a hundred miles away!"

"Evil people like cats."

"And that baby bird? The one that we helped find its nest."

"It was a falcon chick, very scary."

"You were crying!"

"Manly tears!"

"What about that old woman you helped cross the road?" 

"I was only after her sweets."

"Sean, just face it." Mark said as he flopped down next to his boyfriend, pulling him close to kiss his green hair. "You're a softy."

Jack smiled. "Only for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickest one shot I've ever written!


End file.
